Pickles and Avgas!
by WarlordFil
Summary: The Beast Machines discover a major difference between technological bodies and techno-organic bodies-namely, where baby Transformers come from. Humour. Epilogue to "White Flags." A ridiculous part of the Tempest Cycle. Complete.


Pickles and Avgas!

DISCLAIMER: This is a silly fic, set well after the Beast Wars TV series comes to a close. It's intended as a humorous epilogue to "White Flags."

Avgas = Aviation Gasoline ie prop-plane fuel.

Many of the characters were taken from ShadowShift's Transformers RP board circa 1999 and are the property of their respective creators:

Amy K. Cyrway: Blancwulf, Pantera/Artemis, Beast Machines Starscream concept.  
Jennifer De Salme: Inuarai  
Dylan P. Blacquiere: Braddore  
Yours Truly, Stormy: Samiel/Tempest, Harrier, Stormrave  
Any other characters are property of Hasbro, as is the Transformers concept, Maximals, Vehicons, Decepticons and Autobots.

PICKLES AND AVGAS!

"HARRIER!"

Blancwulf, Cheetor and Nightscream dropped their cards and covered their ears as Samiel's bellow echoed through the halls of the Maximal base. The spotted wolfhound, a hassled expression on his face, set down his hand on the table. "Coming..."

"I'm telling you, she has got him whipped," Cheetor grinned.

"Get real," Nightscream retorted. "Who would ever go out with Samiel?"

"Of all the girls Harrier could date," Blancwulf replied, watching the wolfhound dart back into the corridor, heading for the food storage room, "why in Primus' name would he pick her?"

Cheetor shot her a glance. "Hey!" Blancwulf protested, "I'm on the short list of girls Harrier HASN'T been with!"

"Come to think of it," the spotted feline mused, "has Harrier been with anyone since he got reformatted? Besides following Samiel around, that is."

The white wolf paused. Harrier certainly did seem to be cured of his old habits as a lady's bot. "Maybe it was his time as a Vehicon that did it to him. Who knows?"

"Well, we need someone to play his hand now," Nightscream muttered. "Where's Rattrap?"

"On patrol with Botanica," Cheetor replied.

"Black Arachnia?"

"Off with Silverbolt somewhere."

"Stormrave?"

The spotted cat paused. "Down in the med lab with Braddore," Blancwulf answered for him.

Cheetor snorted. "Playing doctor, no doubt."

"Cheetor! 'Nari's down with them."

"That's...interesting..."

"CHEETOR!" And then she started laughing despite herself. "Braddore couldn't even THINK about that without turning red, let alone actually DO it..."

The spotted cat shrugged. "What can I say? You're talking about a guy who's got a thing for Vehicons. How kinky can you get?"

At that moment, Harrier stuck his head into the room. "Speaking of Stormrave, where does she keep her fuel cans?" In his left hand he held a plate of pickles.

The three poker players blinked.

"Let me ask Pantera," Blancwulf said, sprinting from the room. Moments later, she was back with the black and chrome Elder. Pantera carried a jerrycan in one hand.

"I don't know what you want this for..." Pantera began.

"Thanks," Harrier said, taking the can, unscrewing the lid, and dumping the fuel liberally over the plateful of pickles.

"Harrier, what in the Pit are you DOING?" Blancwulf asked, overcome with morbid curiosity.

"That's really gross," Nightscream commented.

Harrier shrugged. "It's not for me. It's for..."

"HARRIER!"

"...Sammi," he finished, and called back over his shoulder, "Coming!"

Cheetor wrinkled his nose. "Sorry, pal, but your lady friend is one sick..."

The hackles on the back of Harrier's neck began to rise. "Think what you will but you will not insult Samiel in my presence."

If Harrier had still been the somewhat silly foxhound of the Beast Wars, Cheetor might have taken exception. But now, looking at the solid-chested wolfhound with the razor-sharp blades adorning his legs and arms, and the sawblade-like adornment on his shoulder guards, and the firm expression on the self-proclaimed Decepticon Duke's face, Cheetor thought better of it.

"Why doesn't she come out and get them herself?" Blancwulf asked, absentmindedly munching on one of the avgas-soaked pickles. The others looked at her, appalled. "What?" she asked.

Nightscream pointed wordlessly to the pickle. Blancwulf looked embarrassed and dropped it. "It's not as bad as it looks," she said quietly.

"That is throughly disgusting," Pantera said, rolling her optics. "When those things gum up your processor, don't come crying to me, pup."

Harrier shot a nervous glance up the corridor. "I don't think Sammi's feeling well," he murmured softly.

"Take her to see Braddore. He's the doctor," Blancwulf replied through a mouthful of pickle.

"You know how she hates getting checkups. She thinks we'll all spring on her the moments she's weak." He shot a glance at Pantera and folded his arms as if to say, and anyone who tries will have to go through me.

"Braddore's busy with Stormrave and Inuarai anyway," Pantera replied to break the ice. "Something about cellular production in these new technoorganic bodies. I never have any clue what he's saying half the time..."

"Me neither," Nightscream agreed. "So what's wrong with Samiel?"

"She keeps saying she's getting fat," Harrier said, "and you know, I think she is putting on weight...she can hardly fly any more, and it's done NOTHING for her mood. With her leg half-useless in robot mode, to lose her flight capacity is a real blow for her."

"We're all getting fat," Pantera mumbled. "Must be the lack of activity. Look at me, do I look fat to you?"

She did look a little thick in the tummy, Harrier thought, but he certainly didn't have the bad manners...nor the courage...to say so.

"WHERE THE SLOTTIN' SLAG ARE MY PICKLES?" came the loud drill voice right behind them. The three poker players jumped in their chairs as Samiel herself limped in, looking, now that it had been mentioned, noticeably plump.

Harrier cringed a little and offered her the plate. Looking considerably mollified, she plopped herself down in an overstuffed chair and began to munch with considerable relish, as Cheetor and Nightscream turned somewhat green at the sight. "Thank you," she said in between mouthfuls.

From the other direction came an equally annoyed voice. "KEEP IT DOWN!" came a shrill demand. "Some of us are trying to sleep...or we were, anyway." From the other doorway, Starscream crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Samiel. "What in Primus' name are you EATING?"

"Pickles and avgas, do NOT ask why," Pantera replied. "I don't think I want to know."

Samiel was so absorbed in her snack that she couldn't even be bothered to grumble a retort.

"Screamer, do I look fat?" Pantera asked suddenly.

"You...ah...there's no way to answer that."

"That means I do, doesn't it? DAMN YOU STARSCREAM!"

"Hey! I didn't say it!"

"You thought it!"

"You ASKED it!"

Blancwulf shot a quick glance down at her own stomach. No...everyone just had fat on the brain, thanks to Samiel. The white wolf chewed thoughtfully on what remained of her pickle.

"Everybody listen up!" came an excited voice with a hint of an East Coast accent.

Cheetor rolled his eyes. "Here comes Dr. Newf and company."

"I've done it!" Braddore exclaimed as he darted into the room, transforming into beast mode and gliding up onto the table, sending the cards flying and kicking over everyone's drinks. "I've finally proven the capacity of technoorganic organisms to manufacture gametes!"

"What is he talking about?" Nightscream asked the two females in the doorway, with a gesture at the hyperactive albatross perched in the middle of the table.

One of the females was short and cute, a wild dog with a mane of fuzzy brown hair. "'Nari, do I look fat?" Blancwulf asked her.

"No," Inuarai retorted. "Do I?"

Inuarai looked svelte as always, from Blancwulf's point of view. Come to think of it, 'Nari was the only femme who didn't look pudgy. Well, Nari and...

"How the slag should I know?" came a mechanical voice from the taller form, answering Nightscream's question. "I was right there when he did it and I still don't understand what he's talking about."

Briefly, Blancwulf pondered whether it was fair to call Stormrave taller when the red jet fighter Transformer usually hovered about a foot off the ground. Regardless, she was as narrow-waisted as ever, though it hardly counted when her purely metallic frame was incapable of putting on weight.

Stormrave continued, "It's all that organic biology... Why can't he stick to talking mechanics? THAT part I understood."

"Because we's partially organic now," Braddore responded patiently. He transformed, swinging his legs over the side of the table. "Fact, I'se willing to venture we's sixty percent organic. You and 'Nari helped me prove that."

"Since when are you a scientist?" Harrier asked the wild dog.

Inuarai shrugged. "He just wanted cell samples from a female. Beats me what for."

"I've been doing a lot of studying of Terran and Sirian organic life forms," Braddore explained. "Organic life reproduces very differently from traditional Cybertronian life. Whereas we would always be buildin' our next generation in factories or in workshops, organics reproduce through little effort on behalf of the parents. In fact, it's almost unintentional. Reproduction is simply a by-product of organic plea..." He bit off, turning a bit red, and finally managed to choke out the words. "...plea...pleasure interface."

"And you would be the expert on that I presume," Starscream muttered under his breath...and then his eyes locked with the red glowing optics of the less-than-amused Vehicon.

Once Starscream's mouth was shut, a strange expression appeared on Stormrave's plated face that was probably the Vehicon equivalent of a smirk. "That's a matter of opinion," she replied, her optics gleaming.

Braddore choked again. "STORMY!"

Samiel poked Harrier in the ribs with the empty plate. "More. Please." The wolfhound obediently took the plate, filled it up with pickles, soused them with gas, and handed them back.

"Gimme one of those," Pantera said abruptly. Samiel clutched the plate possessively, but allowed the black feline to take a big pickle off the top. Pantera took a large bite, relishing the flavour.

"Do you think that's contagious?" Cheetor stage-whispered.

"I don't care," Nightscream retorted, "you are NOT catching me eating those things."

"I think fat is contagious," Blancwulf muttered. "Yo, 'Tera, pass me a pickle."

Pantera deftly swiped a second one off the top of Samiel's pile and tossed it across the room. Blancwulf caught it in midair.

"Anyway," Braddore was saying, having gotten some of his clinical composure back, "it's my theory that our new technoorganic forms will experience the reproductive cycle in much the same way as purely organic creatures."

Stormrave wrinkled her faceplate as his hours of prattling scientific terminology finally came clear to her. "EEWWW! You're saying that they-" she gestured to the group "-are gonna have all those gross fleshie parts and carry babies inside 'em and stuff?"

"You couild put it that way."

"INSIDE them? YUCK!" The rogue Vehicon shuddered at the thought. "That is COMPLETELY unnatural...eewww..."

"It's perfectly natural for organics."

"Kids are BUILT." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I am SO glad I'm not organic...YUCK!"

"At the moment, that's my theory," Braddore said, and shot her a dirty look. "Now would you hush up about how disgusting we all are? Exhaustbreath."

"Bloodbag."

"Rusthead."

"Hairball."

"I ain't got hair, I gots feathers..."

"Featherduster."

"That's Starscream," Pantera said with her mouth full.

"HEY!" Starscream protested, loudly as usual.

"Our females are going to...have babies?" Harrier said.

"Possibly," the albatross replied, seeming relieved that someone had been paying attention to him. "And without any conscious desire on our parts, either. In an organic shell, reproduction takes place automatically as a side effect of...you know." His organic components turned a rosy pink and he peeked up shyly.

"So how do we stop this?" Blancwulf asked, only to be drowned out by Starscream's loud-as-usual voice demanding to know what happened when a female WAS "pregnant," as the fleshies put it.

"Well, they gets fat in the tummy, 'cause that's where the baby is." He walked across the room, heading towards Samiel and her plate of food. "They tend to get possessive of their mates, they generally become less active, and most of all, they start eatin' weird things like... Good Primus, what is that?" He broke off, staring openmouthed at Samiel's snack.

"Pickles in avgas, what's it to you?" the yellow archaeopteryx snapped, then popped one in her mouth.

The medic's eyes took in Samiel's rather noticeable stomach, the obedient wolfhound standing protectively behind her chair, and the plateful of pickles, and his jaw dropped. "Sammi, you're...well, you've got to be well along!"

"What are you..." She blinked, suddenly dropping the plate. Blancwulf made a dive for it, catching it just before the pickles fell all over the floor, and delicately licked up the avgas that had splattered onto her hand before helping herself to a pickle.

Samiel jumped to her feet. Her bad leg gave out under her, but Harrier caught her before she fell. She pushed him away, not wanting to look weak in front of the others, took a deep breath, and screeched,

"ARE YOU SAYING I'M MANUFACTURING A CHILD?"

"Ten points for the winner," Starscream muttered.

"Poor kid," Pantera replied under her breath. "Say...wanna pickle?"

"Primus, no. Arty, that is utterly repulsive."

"They're pretty good actually..."

"Yeah," Blancwulf agreed, chewing...and then suddenly her jaw dropped. "'Tera...what did Braddore say about weird food and being fat?"

Pantera looked down at her stomach, at the irate and round-bellied Samiel being restrained by Harrier, at the pickle in her hand, and her eyes bulged out.

Panicked, both the wolf and the leopard turned to Braddore, who was staring right back at them with an incredulous expression.

"Well," Stormrave smirked, "this was certainly unexpected."

Inuarai looked around the room, greatly surprised, but certainly not as shocked as the three females in question. "Yeah. Hard to believe we're going to have little ones running around."

Stormrave turned her attention from the three freaking females to the three males beside them. Harrier had managed to get Samiel reasonably settled down. Starscream was still completely clueless, and Cheetor was sitting slack-jawed in his chair with a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

"Hard to believe those three are going to be fathers," Stormrave retorted.

"F...fathers?" Cheetor spluttered, staring from Harrier to Starscream.

Harrier's legs folded under him and he plopped to the floor, a dreamy smile on his face as he looked at Starscream. Cheetor was still stammering in disbelief, also turning to the former Decepticon Air Commander.

Pantera's eyes locked on Starscream's, conveying surprise and momentous import.

And for once, Starscream was silent--then he fainted dead away.

The End.


End file.
